


en noir

by icemakestars



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alcohol, Blood and Violence, F/F, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Knives, Minor Character Death, Public Display of Affection, Sloppy Makeouts, Unresolved Sexual Tension, non-con elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icemakestars/pseuds/icemakestars
Summary: As Ultear receives a promising new work opportunity, her faith in her lover, Mirajane, puts them both in danger.
Relationships: Mentioned Laki/Kinana, Ultear Milkovich/Mirajane Strauss
Kudos: 4
Collections: Fairy Tail LGBTales, Fairy Tail Reverse Bang 2020





	en noir

**Author's Note:**

> My second fic for the reverse big bang event!! This time I was working with the beautiful @theseventhstar on tumblr and @altairiis on twitter!
> 
> You can find her artwork here:
> 
> Thank you also to mdelpin for being my beta! The team was so fun to work with, I was lucky bc both Maria and Ahri are two of my favourite people <3
> 
> This fic is super out of my comfort zone but I hope that everyone enjoys it none the less :)

The club was darker than normal night-time hangouts, but that was how Ultear liked it; she would be seen only when she wanted to be seen, something which was becoming less and less of a concern to her. Ultear was too mesmerising to question, too powerful to defy, a helpful combination for someone as focused on business as she was. She had a mind for it, enjoyed making money no matter what that entailed, and if that had led to her becoming the icy queen of Fiore’s underground network then Ultear wasn’t about to complain. 

“Another drink.” Ultear crossed and uncrossed her legs, smirking as several men scrambled around her to fill her demand. One by one they faltered and fell back into their seats, clearing a path for Ultear’s second-in-com and incidental lover, Mirajane, who was approaching with a drink in either hand. 

Mirajane smiled at each of the men, sweet and innocent, luring them into her web. As every single man melted under Mirajane’s gaze, Ultear repressed a laugh. If only they knew how much poison flowed through Mirajane’s veins, as thick and natural as blood, then maybe they would not be so quick to relax in her presence. Many had made the same mistake before, and Ultear relished in seeing each one of them fall.

“One  _ vieux carré _ for my lady.” 

Mirajane’s white satin dress shifted under the dim lighting, the slit in the side exposing an expanse of creamy skin, marred only by Ultear’s love from the night before. Ultear wanted to touch her, so she did just that, fingernails scratching along Mirajane’s side, pulling the other woman onto Ultear’s lap. 

“And what is my princess drinking this evening?” Ultear murmured against the curve of Mirajane’s jaw. The other woman adjusted herself around Ultear’s body, tilting her head so that their lips could meet in a kiss that was slow, a languid push and pull until Mirajane opened her mouth and their tongues brushed together. The tantalisingly familiar taste of Mirajane’s mouth had heat spreading through Ultear’s body, pooling in the pit of her stomach and creeping towards her crotch. But when Mirajane shifted, delicate hands tracing the skin of Ultear’s breasts, exposed by her low-cut velvet dress, the warmth became a wildfire, forcing Ultear to pull away before she became consumed by it all. They were still in a crowd of people, after all. 

Some men had the decency to look away, too afraid to watch such an intimate display, but others openly leered with narrowed eyes and salacious grins. Ultear made a note of those men, committing their faces and names to memory. Their disrespect made them disposable, and Ultear had plenty of jobs for them, jobs that she could ensure they would not return from. 

But they were ultimately unimportant, especially when Mirajane was still so close, nails scraping along the edge of Ultear’s hairline. The black-haired woman was about to seal their lips once more when a low, familiar voice interrupted them. 

“I apologise for the disturbance lady Ultear, but are we not expecting a delivery soon?” 

Azuma placed his drink on the table next to Mirajane’s, the only person that Ultear would allow to do so. He had been with her since the beginning and was one of the few people that Ultear trusted implicitly. 

She tapped her finger nail on the wooden arm of the chair, feigning thought and indifference. The truth was that the delivery was one of the most important that Ultear had ever received; a drug which was new to Fiore called SO. All Ultear knew about SO was that it stood for ‘Second Origin’, increased the abilities of those who took it, and was worth a small fortune. There was no way that she could miss an opportunity this good. 

“I might take care of business myself today, for a change.” 

Ultear was used to being watched, but the eyes that fell on her then were different somehow, more intense. Questioning. It was rare for her to deal with menial tasks now; she was a queen who left the unsavory or boring tasks to her subjects. To go and oversee the delivery would be to arouse suspicion. Everyone knew what Ultear did - most of them played a role in her work too - but this drug was too dangerous to be messed with, too precious to fall into someone else’s hands. Ultear needed to keep it as quiet as possible until the SO was secure and her empire was safe. 

“I can see to it that the delivery is acceptable, lady Ultear.” Azuma offered. He had always been quick to detect her unease, both a blessing and a curse. 

Ultear waved him off with a laugh. “Do you think that I am no longer capable of seeing to such affairs?”

The other men around the table were tense, twitching at the exchange. They feared for Azuma, as they should; if it had been anyone else the consequences of interfering would be dire. But Azuma knew her too well. He quirked his lip and took a long, languid drink of his beverage. 

“Not at all lady Ultear. You always handle your affairs beautifully.” 

Azuma tipped his glass at her and Ultear raised her brow at him. The other men were still staring, unsure how they should respond, but Ultear ignored them. She was allowed to show favour to certain members of her group; that was her prerogative. And Azuma had proven himself loyal time and time again over the years. 

Before Ultear could respond the music in the club changed, a fast, pulsating beat that made her wince. She flicked her wrist in the direction of the DJ behind her and instantly the song changed to something slower, more sensual. It suited her better, and Ultear settled into the allure of it. Coupled with the weight of Mirajane in her lap, the sensation was more addicting than any drug could be. 

There was a light brush of lips against the crescent-moon curve of Ultear’s jaw, and then Mirajane was stretching her lithe limbs out like a cat, coiling her body tight around Ultear before snapping away like a piece of elastic. 

“I’ll go, love. You stay here.” 

Mirajane stared deep into Ultear’s eyes, and it was clear that they both understood the position that they were in. Ultear needed to go, but couldn’t. And there was no one she trusted more in the world than her girlfriend. 

With a languid roll of her shoulders, Ultear took Mirajane’s hand in her own and pressed it against her lips. 

“Don’t be long.” 

Mirajane adjusted her hair, breasts moving as her arms lifted. Ultear watched every movement hungrily, forcing herself to focus on business and not how much she desired the other woman. Still, Ultear’s eyes did not leave Mirajane as she walked away, committing the width of her shoulders; the dip of her back; the jagged scars across her skin to memory, loving every inch of it. Cherishing it. 

“Will Mirajane be okay to go alone?” Azuma asked quietly, leaning forward to place his drink back onto the table. Ultear glanced to the side for a moment, taking in his vaguely concerned expression, and hummed. 

“She isn’t to be underestimated.” 

He didn’t challenge her decision again; Azuma was a brave man, but certainly not brave enough.

A group of young men approached Ultear, cutting off Azuma and stealing her attention. They were new to the business, only able to speak to her when surrounded by others that they trusted. That made Ultear smile, a small quirk of her lips as she listened to their bumbling nonsense. 

“Thank you for inviting us here tonight.” One muttered.

“We are honoured that you chose us for the Phantom job.” Another supplied hurriedly. 

They were bottom of the barrel staff, but they were eager. Ultear admired them for that, at least. She gestured to the DJ to change the track once more, something with a higher tempo, more thrilling than the sensual slow music which seemed almost boring now that Mirajane had left. The boys continued to spout compliments to her, unaware that she had stopped listening to them shortly after they had arrived. Ultear would have been content to just let their juvenile praise wash over her, but Azuma was still staring at her face, lips pressed into a sharp, hard line. It was annoying, and caused Ultear to snap. 

“Enough.” She held up one hand to the group of young men as each one of them fell silent. “Is there not some work for you to be getting on with?” When Ultear smiled, she showed a flash of teeth, and one of the boys gulped. 

The group nodded in tandem and then scurried off into the darkness to perform tasks too menial for Ultear to even name. She knocked back the rest of her drink, slammed the glass a little too loudly on the table and rolled her eyes when she was confronted with four new drinks from men she couldn’t even remember. 

When they had settled back into their seats, Ultear turned to Azuma once more. 

“What is it, Azuma?” All jest had crumbled from her tone, leaving something steely and authoritative beneath. 

Azuma flinched slightly, crossing his legs and clearing his throat before answering. 

“The job was a simple hand over, was it not?”

“Yes, what of it?” Ultear didn’t want to play games anymore, and she knew that Azume sensed that. He hovered a hand over her arm, knowing never to touch Ultear without her consent but showing that he meant no harm with his words. 

“Should Mirajane not have returned by now?” 

Ultear’s eyes flashed up to his, narrow and red and glowing eerily in the club lighting. She knew that he was right, that the delivery should have taken no longer than fifteen minutes, but it had been at least twenty since the other woman had left for business. Still, she felt as though people were continuously underestimating Mirajane, and Ultear couldn’t help but be annoyed by that. 

Slowly, Ultear stood, looming over Azuma, daring him to say another word. 

“I’m going to get another drink.” Ultear said flatly, dismissing the alcohol already lined up for her on the table with a disinterested glance. 

The club parted for her like the red sea, young women and sleazy old men and boys who were barely adults all watching as she moved gracefully to the bar. There was a queue, but nobody expected Ultear to wait; she waved over the bartender who abandoned the cocktail in her hand and attended to Ultear with a smile. 

“Kinana, a whiskey on the rocks please.” 

The bartender was around the same age as Mirajane, with a shock of purple hair and the sweetest smile that Ultear had ever seen. Her face was beautiful, even with the expanse of red, shiny skin which covered her left cheek; an acid attack from almost five years ago now. When Ultear had found Kinana she had been traumatised and alone, wallowing in the breakup with her boyfriend Erik. Now she was vibrant, confident, and totally in love with one of Ultear’s underlings, Laki. 

Kinana took the most expensive bottle of malt that they owned, reserved for Ultear only, and poured a small glass over two perfect cubes of ice. Ultear snatched the glass and downed the drink, not waiting for the ice to melt, and slid it back to Kinana. 

“Another.” 

As the younger woman poured another drink, Ultear adjusted her dress, pulling it down so that the collar was not so loose on her neck and the hem over her garter belt. She had taken to wearing one as a teen, connecting a holster for a gun or a knife so that she could protect herself if needed. Her power and influence was sufficient enough for her now, but the knife which pressed into her thigh was still a comfort. 

Mirajane didn’t wear one though. In many ways, she was defenceles. 

With a frustrated growl, Ultear left the second drink at the bar and stalked towards the door. It wouldn’t harm to oversee things; she could do whatever she liked in her own business. 

The delivery was set at the back of the club, so Ultear ducked out of that enterance, unbothered by the chill in the air as the night seeped into her skin. There were few lights out here, and Ultear settled into the dim atmosphere; this was where she belonged, in the dark. This was her  _ home _ . 

A man’s voice sounded, and Ultear paused, listening, pinpointing the noise and following it. She moved with grace and stealth, not wanting to be heard until she understood the situation. The man’s voice was growing louder, but then Ultear heard another, and then a third, more familiar tone.  _ Mirajane _ . Ultear felt a confusion of emotions then. Firstly, relief. Azuma had planted the seed of fear, and that wasn’t a feeling that Ultear succumbed to often. But there was also a layer of guilt, of doubting the woman that Ultear so desperately respected; so desperately  _ loved _ . 

She was ready to turn and head back to her drink when the conversation finally reached her. 

“That bitch Ultear, does she have a weakness?” One man snarled, and that was when Ultear ran towards them, careful not to make any noise, and peered around the corner of the building to the alleyway at the side. 

Mirajane was caged against the wall, two men leering over her, both taller than the young woman by at least a foot. Even though the situation seemed dire, Ultear still hesitated. Mirajane was not a damsel in distress; she could handle herself. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” Mirajane blinked slowly, innocently, curling a piece of hair around her finger in the usual display of a dumb blonde, the opposite of how she truly was. It was a trick which worked on most men, Ultear had gathered. But not these two. 

One had a head which was almost cleanly shaved, the other messy brown hair, but both held themselves in a way that Ultear didn’t trust. The younger man with brown hair grinned, flaring his teeth in a dangerous display before slapping Mirajane clean across the face, the back of his head the tail-whip of a cobra, crackling through the air and causing everything else to fall silent. 

When Mirajane turned her head again, her cheek was marked with red, blood trickling from her top lip. Her hair was messier, her eyes wet, but still she smiled. 

“Ultear would never lose to the likes of you.” 

“Insolence!” The bald man took a step forward, but the other pushed him back. 

“Let me handle this, Jacob.” He smirked. “I’ll make the bitch squeal.”

“Hurry, Wahl. We do not need to be caught here.” 

The men nodded at each other before Wahl snapped his arm forward and wrapped his hand around Mirajane’s throat. 

“You better start talking, baby. Or else we might have to make your pretty face a little less pretty.” Wahl had Mirajane dangling off of the ground, her breathing coming in painful gasps. “But maybe I’ll have a little fun with you first.”

Wahl pressed his mouth against the skin of Mirajane’s neck, pierced tongue darting out and licking a long, sickening strip. Mirajane squirmed, making muffled noises of protest as his spare hand wandered around her stomach. Jacob shook his head but said nothing, willing to just stand and watch as the young man got the information from Mirajane in whatever way he saw fit, and somehow that was even worse to Ultear. Someone was there to help but was choosing not to, and that would never be okay with her. 

Ultear was behind Jacob before either man even noticed her presence, the blade of her knife pressing into his throat as a warning. 

“Who are you working for?” She murmured, pulling Jacob’s arm behind his back, keeping him still. 

“Shit.” Wahl gasped, and that momentary lapse of concentration was all Mirajane needed. She took his wrist in her petite hands and twisted it, knee colliding with his crotch in the same fluid movement. He fell to the floor, panting, cupping himself and whining. 

“I won’t ask twice.” Ultear threatened. “And if I have to then there will only be one person left to answer.” She pressed the knife into Jacob’s skin for emphasis, small beads of blood appearing on his tanned skin. 

“Alvarez…  _ fuck.  _ We’re from Alvarez.” Wahl groaned, and that was all the information that Ultear needed. 

“Thank you for cooperating.” She smiled at Wahl, and with a flick of her wrist the blade sunk deeply into Jacob’s skin. 

Wahl yelled. Jacob fell to the ground. There was blood on the ground, on the walls. On Ultear’s hands. But she was used to that. The knife dropped and Mirajane offered a swift kick to the back of Wahl’s head. He seemed to still be breathing, but Ultear would have Azuma dispose of them later. She had gotten involved enough already. 

There was an unsettling silence, the smell of iron soaking into the air around them, but Ultear didn’t have time to think about that; there were hands on her thighs, on her ass, lips working against her neck as Mirajane backed her up against the wall.

“You’re so incredible.” She moaned, pressing her knee against Ultear’s crotch and grinding it upwards. Mirajane’s lips still tasted like lipstick, liquor and blood, but that just deepend Ultear’s arousal. 

“So are you, princess.” Ultear slid her hand under Mirajane’s dress, fondling her breasts, basking in the sheer existence of her. She wanted to ask about SO, to see if the entire promise of new work had been a set up or if such a drug truly existed, but then Mirajane slid a tablet into her mouth, bit it in into two and placed one half in Ultear’s mouth with her tongue. 

“The rest of them are under the trash bag in the back. It was an ambush but the gear is safe.” 

Ultear groaned wantonly, noting how her stained skin was splattering red across Mirajane’s pretty white dress but being too far gone to care. 

She dealt in drugs, in the darkest aspects of the human mind, but nothing had ever been as intoxicating to Ultear as the feeling of Mirajane’s skin on hers. Ultear thought about what Wahl had asked, if she had any weaknesses. Mirajane hadn’t answered, probably didn’t  _ know _ the answer, but Ultear did; it was cradled in her arms now, pressing kisses along her chest and digging fingernails into her thigh. 

The dark was where Ultear belonged, but so long as Mirajane was there by her side, the dark felt just that little bit more bright. 


End file.
